


Used Matches

by spideywhiteys



Series: 365 Days of Naruto AUs [16]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hashirama is a firefighter, M/M, and also severely annoying, fugaku is a divorced father, fugaku is having the worst day known to man, hashirama is a ray of sunshine, let middle aged men be romanced while their house burns in the background!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:33:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28799157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spideywhiteys/pseuds/spideywhiteys
Summary: Fugaku’s house is on fire, his food is inedible and his night is ruined. Cue rescue by a firefighter with a wide smile and absolutely no clue on how to read the situation.
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Fugaku
Series: 365 Days of Naruto AUs [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2086938
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26





	Used Matches

**Author's Note:**

> Day 16: Firefighter AU / Hashirama + Fugaku

Fugaku’s house is on fire.

Fugaku did not ask for this. All he wanted to do today was eat too much food and slip into a coma while watching Law & Order. His two sons are at their mother’s house, so he was home alone and totally allowed to succumb to his guilty pleasures while no watchful eyes were upon him. Instead he fell asleep while heating up leftovers and started a fire. A fire that’s very happily burning his house down with very little remorse — in fact it probably has its non-existant fiery middle fingers pointed in his direction because he’s such a fucking idiot. 

He’s covered in soot and keeps trying to hack up an entire lung every five minutes, but he’s alive. Because this tall firefighter stormed in and whisked him out of the danger via princess carry. 

Fugaku has never been princess carried in his life, so of course it had to happen where all of his neighbors could see. Of course it had to happen while he looked like a complete wreck and he’s wearing  _ sweatpants! _

His stomach rumbles.

He never got to eat his food.

“My lasagna!” He groans into his hands, a shock blanket wrapped around his shoulders, bare feet hanging an inch above the pavement as he sits in the wagon of the ambulance.

“Your lasagna?” 

Fugaku looks up with a glare as vicious as a thousand dying suns. It’s the firefighter who pulled him from his house — a house that’s barely on fire now, thank you, but completely scorched like a used match — helmet off to reveal tan skin and long brown hair tied up in a high bun. He’s smiling too wide. Obnoxiously wide, really. God, Fugaku almost wishes the man left him in there to burn with his lasagna. 

It’s been that kind of day.

“Is that what started the fire, sir?”

There’s no way to make this sound any less ridiculous than it already is. “Yes.”

“Cool. I mean, not cool. There’s nothing cool about this, it’s a fire.” The firefighter laughs like he’s told the funniest joke known to man.

Fugaku would strangle him, but he’s getting attached to sitting here under this blanket and staring at the husk of his house. “Is this actually funny to you?”

A cough. “Um, ah, no. Fires aren’t funny.”

Fugaku puts his fingers on the bridge of his nose and pinches to try and relieve a bit of the stress headache he feels building. Maybe strangling the firefighter  _ would _ make him feel better. What’s a bit of manslaughter on top of the disaster that was today?

“Hey, what’s your name by the way? Didn’t manage to get it earlier.”

“I wonder why,” Fugaku says with the driest tone his vocal cords can produce, “Maybe because we were trying not to burn alive.”

“Well I’m Senju Hashirama!”

“I didn’t ask.”

But the name does sound vaguely familiar.

Now Hashirama laughs like it’s Fugaku who’s told a joke. “You know, you remind me of someone I know. You look a lot like him, too! Maybe you know him, his name is Uchiha Madara.”

Fugaku moves on from just pinching his nose and full on covers his entire face with his hands. He wants to groan again, but not with this giant buffoon here watching. Now it makes sense. He’s definitely heard the name Senju Hashirama before. “I’m familiar with him. He’s my cousin.”

The kind of cousin that would shank someone in a dark alley for you and never get caught, and the kind of cousin that  _ will laugh his ass off  _ if he hears that Fugaku burned down his house while reheating lasagna.

“Whaaat! That makes so much sense! I knew you had to be related, with how pretty you are.”

Fugaku lowers his hands to peer over his fingertips at the firefighter, murder in his dark gaze. The Senju idiot never seems to drop that smile. Clad in a heavy fire-proof suit and sweating buckets in the night, sparkling like he’s trying to replace the sun while it’s below the horizon. There’s no joke in his expression, just sincerity and a goofy sort of look that tells Fugaku that the man is the type to say whatever is on his mind without knowing what half of it means. 

Reminds him of a majority of the Uzumaki he’s met.

“So, you’re an Uchiha-san too? What’s your first name? You still haven’t told me yet!’

“Fugaku.” He growls. “And aren’t you supposed to be doing your job?”

“I  _ am  _ doing my job! Talking to the homeowner ‘n finding the cause of the fire! Lasagna! They’re gonna get a kick outta that back at HQ.” 

Fugaku groans and tilts his head up to the night sky. Anything to avoid looking at the terribly,  _ annoyingly  _ bright man with no filter. He can’t believe the entire fire department is going to know him as  _ lasagna man. _ They don’t even have to say it. He’ll know. It’ll be written on paperwork somewhere in the station and that information is going to haunt Fugaku to his grave and beyond.

“Oh, hey, you were the only one home — do you need to call your family and let them know? Wife? Kids?” 

“I’m divorced. The kids can stay with their mother for a bit longer than planned and — I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.” Fugaku frowns. Damn, it really  _ has _ been a night. 

“Divorced. I see.” Hashirama presses his lips together, blinking wide, dark eyes at Fugaku like he’s an interesting creature and not a sooty mess wrapped in a neon orange blanket. “Do you have anywhere to go for the night?”

“I can book a hotel.” 

“For how long? Sounds like it’ll get pretty expensive after a bit.”

_ Yeah, no shit. _ Fugaku’s expression conveys. But there’s no way he’s staying with Mikoto — not because he’s terrified of her, absolutely not. He’s  _ definitely _ not staying with his parents because he worked his ass off in high school so he could get  _ out  _ of that damn house as fast as possible. “Don’t have much choice here. My house was just on fire, if you didn’t notice.”

“That was your place?” Hashirama jokes, “But really, what about Madara? He’s a good guy with too much money!”

Fugaku snorts, then pauses because he can’t believe he just laughed at  _ anything _ that came out of this idiot’s mouth. Ah, hell. It  _ was _ true that Madara had too much money. “Madara is a good man, and he’s one of my favored family members, but we would kill each other in a week.”

Hashirama just nods like he completely understands. “I see, I see. You’re alike, huh.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Then it’s settled!” Hashirama exclaims, bright amid ash and sweat and the acrid tang of smoke on their tongues, “Stay with me!”

Fugaku blinks. He feels the frown marks by his mouth deepen by the second. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Hm, don’t think so!” A loud, boisterous laugh fills the air. “You’ve got nowhere else to go, right? And you’ll have to save up money for a new house and new stuff! We basically already know each other — right? Ya know, through Madara! Right?”

Fugaku stares at the taller man with something akin to horror, the feeling creeping up on him like a shadowy predator. He’s suddenly beat over the head with the knowledge that Senju Hashirama is the type of man to bulldoze over everyone and everything, shouting his opinions to the sky and drowning out anyone else’s voice.

Hashirama claps him on the back, probably leaving a big sooty handprint on the back of Fugaku’s bright orange blanket. He keeps frowning. He was getting attached to this blanket.

“It’ll be great! I roomed with Madara during college and we both made it out alive!” 

Fugaku closes his eyes for a moment to gather strength. “I’m not Madara.”

“Well, yeah.” Hashirama replies, his dark eyes tracing Fugaku’s features like the Uchiha is more than exhaustion and ash and a cowlick from an awkward sleeping position, more than a thirty-eight year old divorced father of two who watches shows with more seasons than necessary and falls asleep with the oven on. 

“I think you’re a lot prettier.” He laughs, rubbing his nose bashfully and leaving streaks of black. “And nicer, if I’m honest. Don’t tell Madara that, though!”

_ Good God, this is karma for every bad thing I’ve ever done in my life, _ Fugaku thinks to himself, his pale cheeks traitorously burning red. He hopes the soot and ash hide his embarrassment. He’s way too old to be feeling….

Feeling whatever.

He sighs. His stomach rumbles. He’s hungry and in desperate need for a shower and clothes that don’t smell like smoke. What the hell, it’s not like his day can get any worse — it’s almost midnight. 

Fugaku meets Hashirama’s eyes and hopes he’s not still blushing like some teenage fool. “You got food at your place?”

The tall, sweaty, china-stomping bull of a man smiles like the sun. “Oh, tons. I can even whip you up some lasagna.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow / Support me on [Tumblr](https://spideyfoof.tumblr.com/) and let me know if you'd like to see more of this AU!


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